If I were you
by Persephone999
Summary: After an argument, Lola and Pinky make a simple arrangement to swap lives for a week. Is either right in thinking this will be easy? Of course not, otherwise there'd be no storyline.
1. Chapter 1

This is just an idea that popped into my head. There is a sister story being wrote by FreshestChubi, so you may want to have a peek at that as we're going to add a few twists along the way and try to bounce off each other.

Disclaimer: Not my marionettes, I just like to pull the strings.

Prologue

We're all human, right?

I mean, we all have stuff we hate in life; some people don't like Edna, most people don't like her food, Johnny doesn't like anyone who comes within a mile of his queen. Me? I didn't like Pinky Gauthier; Pinky Gauthier didn't like me. If Johnny didn't like Derby, I had a hatred for the rich kid's cousin/girlfriend so passionate I could give a six hour speech on it. So what kind of moron thought putting us in detention together would help? The line-writing I could handle, the monotony I could take, but this was too much- it was cruel, torture of Edgar Allan Poe proportions. Really, did I deserve this? Mandy had started it, and it wasn't like I'd damaged her or anything. Well, not long term, anyway.

Boredom thudding through my veins, I glanced over at the rich girl and rolled my eyes- the idiot was sat stone still, glaring at the paper with such disdain I half-expected to burst into flames.  
"Just pick the pen up," I ordered, my own flowery handwriting blossoming over the page, the same words over and over: _Baking powder should not be used as a weapon._"No one's going to do it for you,"  
"Go away," she replied, an icy tone cutting the air. "Don't you have any friends to annoy, tramp?" Almost insulted by the lack of effort she'd put into insulting me- something creative might have killed the boredom a bit), I put my pen down, setting my face in a vicious expression, my eyes narrowed just as much as was possible without giving myself wrinkles.  
"Shut your trap, princess," I spat. Whatever reputation I'd been painted with, she was just as bad. Worse than me, perhaps, because I'd never promised Johnny that I'd be faithful- love is complicated, after all- much less that I'd marry him.  
"Only if you shut your legs," Now, maybe I should have left it. Thinking rationally, I would have kept calm, sat down and thought of a prank for when we got back to the dorms...but, since annoyance was oozing into me so that I was alert and open to every little offense, I felt myself straighten as my heels clicked against the floor. Smiling, I fixed my eyes on hers, the insult dancing on my tongue like sherbert.  
"Your friends didn't mind,"

Within a second, two manicured hands clamped my throat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi. Chubi's story should be up soon, so keep an eye out for it as this story may be slightly more enjoyable if you do, although either work well as stand-alone stories.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rockstar. Therefore, this isn't mine. I take no credit for Chubi's sister story.**

**Chapter 1**

What the hell was Pinky playing at? As my head banged into the wall, no answer came to that question but a throbbing beneath my hair. Digging my long nails into her wrists, my heeled foot collided with her shin, a purple mark spreading across her skin like a wine stain on a dress. Call me a cow, but it worked- momentarily distracted, she grabbed her leg with both hands, giving me time to scramble up and step aside.

"Nice to know that precious Daddy of yours brought you up so well!" I commented, raising a hand to my neck. She hadn't hurt me or anything- really! You'd think with all the time the trust fund darlings spent in their boxing club, they'd know better than to pick a fight with someone who didn't know(or care about) the rules.  
"Oh, shut up," she hissed, bending down."You're not exactly a society diamond, not that I'd expect it with your upbringing!" The cheek of it! At least my parents weren't related, even if one of them had scuttled off like a rat down a drain.  
"P*ss off," I retorted. I'd have one last jab, then that would be it. One tiny, last jab. "It certainly beats yours!" There was a momentary pause, a split second of calm as Pinky straightened herself up. Curious, I copied her confident stature. What was she smirking at?  
"Is that a bet?" she asked me, an idea swimming around in her irises with a snarky smile.

For some reason, I could almost picture a tiny Derby on her shoulder, devil horns and all. Princess Pinky Gauthier would never want somene else's life, let alone mine... would she? No. There had to be a catch.  
"If I say yes?" I demended, emphasising the "if","What would I have to do?"  
"Simple- tomorrow morning, we have a total swap for two weeks; clothes... friends... houses... everything," she explained, a replused pause after each word on the list. "When I win, you-"  
"This isn't going anywhere," I cut in, a note of finality in my words. This has to be a sick joke, I told myself. There was no way I was letting her near my home, my family. What if she gets hold of my things? My photos? My diary... God, please, not my diary.  
"Why not?"  
"Because... because... I don't have to explain myself to you," I mumbled lamely. Why was I even thinking on this?

"Why?"

"Fine. One condition..."I had her attention now. She cocked her head to one side slightly, like a little mutt does when you snap your fingers in front of it.  
"Which would be?" she asked, a spark of curiosity flickering in her pupils. I took a deep breath- the request was a gamble, a risk, a game of roulette. If she kept to the condition I was safe; if not, I could find something to silence her with. After all, nobody's done nothing wrong.  
"No packing," I insisted. "We don't take anything with us,"  
"Agreed," I felt my heartbeat slow slightly and my mouth twitch into a smile- I was safe now, assuming the rick kid kept her word. Besides, an airhead like that would never survive without her precious stuff.

"Good. If I win?" Might as well milk this.  
"A hundred?" she offered, a smile that seemed almost genuine. I nodded- how could I refuse payment for two weeks of luxury?  
"So," I began, sizing her up. "What for the girl who has everything? Clothes? Boys?" Her cheeks went redder than an autumn sunset. "One particular boy? Maybe I'm wrong, but I get the impression Master Harrington isn't for you, is he?" She staggered back slightly as though I'd slapped her- Maybe I'm onto something.  
"I want you to leave my friends alone." she replied. "and stay out of my business,"  
"Damn! Even Gord?" I checked, sticking my bottom lip out and folding my arms theatrically. Apparently, inbreeding replaces your sense of humour with extra thumbs.  
"Especially Gord!"  
"All right, calm down," I smiled, backing away."Anything else?" She hesitated for a moment, trying to think of something intelligent with that little lone brain cell floating about her airy head before saying that was it.  
"Good," At that moment, the school bell screamed "Freedom!", allowing us to leave now that the chips were on the table. To start the wheel spinning, I pulled my jacket off and held it out to her.

"We swap everything right?" I smiled innocently, raising the pitch of my voice to match her normal tone. After a few moments of hateful glaring, she took the garment, gingerly holding it away from her body as though she might catch something. Turning on my heel in fluid movement, I glanced over my shoulder, a final comment escaping my mouth as I reached for the door handle.  
"See ya later, greaseball,"

I have never felt so satisfied as I did the the second the smile dropped from her face like a dead fly.


	3. Chapter 3

No sooner had the classroom door slammed behind me than reality slapped me in the face harder than an angry Mandy. The stupidity of my actions seeping in, I wanted nothing more than to ram the words back down my throat. Self-annoyance pushing down on my shoulders, I glanced back to the door. Perhaps I could turn back, call the whole thing off. Pinky would be glad of it. That way, she wouldn't know about my mom... It was just a bet... right?

No. This wasn't just a bet, I decided as I stormed from the main building, a flurry of snow greeting me. There was no way in hell I could back down from a bet with Pinky. It was a matter of honour, of pride, of dignity! Admittedly, I didn't have much of those after being friendly to some preppies, but what girl hasn't made mistakes? Furthermore, I mused as I closed the door to my dormitory, why was it a big deal, anyway? Any guy gullible enough to fall over himself for a sweet word has it coming. Anyway, Jimmy Hopkins was three times as... active me and no one gave a shit!

For some reason, this trail of thought continued to whisper in my ear even as I crawled into bed. Laying down, I glanced over to my roomate, a coal-haired ten year old with the mouth and mentality of a two hundred and thirty pound Lost biker. At that moment, she was laid on her stomach, frustration crumpling her brow. The second my mind began to drift into dear, delicious slumber, Melody's frustration poured out of her mouth.

"Damn it!" she shouted, throwing her pencil down on the bed. "This freakin' homework's a load of bu-"  
"Melody," I demanded, turning over to face her. "What did I tell you about that word? It's not nice," Perhaps that was the pot calling the kettle black, but at that moment I didn't care- I had other stuff to worry about.  
"But you say "bu-"  
"I don't care, if Peabody hears you mouthing off, she'll feed you to Ms Phillips' cat," That shut her up- first years believe anything. She put the homework away and went to get changed for bed, leaving me alone with my worries.

We would switch clothes- I could probably improvise a look. Classes- the nerds would still do my homework. Friends...I wasn't going to manage well with that bit. Money made them tolerable, but I wasn't a bit like those arrogant snobs with nothing in common but daddy-issues and boxing- I ask you, what kind of morons take their anger out on their own clique? Even Johnny ain't that that dumb.

By the time I'd thought out every little way I was different to the preppies, Melody was back, clutching a teddy bear with one little fist. Had I been like that? Shaking my head, I tapped the kid on the shoulder.

"Melody, if you see Pinky going through my drawers, I want you to come straight to me and tell me, got it?," "Yes, Lola,"  
"Good... oh, an' did you remember to put that stink bomb you found in here back where it came from?"  
"Yes, Lola," The repetitive, angelic little voice gave no clue to the cheeky child's misbehaviors."Karen says Mandy was almost sick when she found it!"  
"You're a gem, kid," I grinned, a snarky comment slipping through my head before I changed the topic."How's everything going with that boy, then?"  
"He hasn't talked to me," the small girl admitted dejectedly, hanging her head in reasonless shame.  
"Don't worry, you'll get him. Word of advice though- tease him a bit, let him know you're interested. A man's ego is fragile- unless he's brave or dumb, he won't make the first move unless he's sure you'll say "yes"," I added, an impish smile slipping onto my face. "If he still doesn't... well, he isn't worth your time, then," The small girl nodded obediently, charcoal pigtails bobbing up and down like mine used to as her small face set into a troubled expression. "Have you packed for christmas?" There was a thought- I'd have to spend time with Pinky's family. If you've ever heard the phrase "lamb to slaughter,", that's how I felt- two weeks of chinless inbreds living with Lola Lombardi was like dangling a rat in front of alleycats! Perhaps I could make something up...

Realising I was wandering around in mental circles, I lay down and pulled the sheets over my head, trying to yank the doubts from my head. Everything would be OK. Everything would be OK.

Two weeks as a spoilt, airheaded rich bitch. It couldn't be that hard... right? 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Bully isn't mine.

Chapter 3

I woke up the next morning with the promise of a bad day shoving my eyelids back down. Glancing at the clock, I let out a dying moan as I sat up. Why, today of all days, had my brain forced me up at 3am?

Yanking myself up, I trudged across the icy floor to the desk, opening the scarlet bag waiting for me by the window. Painting the gloss along my lips with the precision of a surgeon, I wondered what I would do with Pinky's make-up. Would the lighter tones suit me? What about Aquaberry? Aside from that one time Gord had bought me a vest- not that I could wear it without flushing myself out of the greaser clique and further into Bullworth's sewer- my clothes were teasing, designed to leave boys with no will to run. There were a few hand-me-downs that didn't fit my mother anymore, but nothing grand. Imagining Pinky wih clown red lips and tight clothes clinging to curves that weren't there, I could help laughing as I stroked my hair with a brush. Once the morning ritual was over, I shut the door behind me quietly, careful not to wake up Melody before tapping on the door next to mine.

The door opened to reveal a very tired looking prep, her oak hair stuck up as though it had exploded.  
"Don't you sleep?" she demanded wearily.  
"That's why I came. Do you go home for the holidays?"  
"Huh?" She was very droll, the prep. She really was.  
"Christmas," I repeated. "Where do you go for Christmas?"  
"I don't know... Sometimes Paris, maybe China," Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. I'd get a holiday at least. "I spend the holidays with Derby and his family if that's what your wondering about," On second thoughts...  
"Sounds fun," I commented. "So... Am I going to yours for the two weeks?" She cocked her head slightly like a dog when you click your fingers.  
"You're going with Derby, no doubt my parents will probably be there a lot so if you're interested in meeting the cruel people who created me there you go." Damn. No backing out now.  
"Oh..." my boldness trailed off. "I suppose you'll want to see my house then," The words were lead heavy, cold and almost mechanical. Gauthier's face crinkled like she wanted to laugh at me.  
"Want? No. Should, yes," her voice was even, emotionless. For some reason, it occurred to me that if we'd been doing this on a stage then we'd probably get rotten tomatoes chucked at us.

"Fine... could you get ready quickly?"  
"It's three in the morning!" Excuses, excuses...  
"Don't exaggerate," I replied. "It's not nearly that early," It was actually ten minutes to four. The prep placed her palms flat against her hips, a martyred expression creeping onto her face.  
"You're not gonna take no for an answer," she mourned, a sigh escaping her lips. Smiling, I mimicked her posture.  
"So you do understand me," I commented, the words tasting strange on my shook her head before heading to her dresser, mumbling something to a half awake Zoe. Glancing at the Aquaberry in her hand, I couldn't help giggling- how would she manage my stuff?  
"Let's go to the bathroom, I'll change in there,"  
"Why not use your own room?" I wondered before I could stop it. After all, it wasn't like she had anything I didn't... except a few extra toes, possibly.  
"Zoe's trying to sleep. You know- it's an activity the living do to regain energy. We don't do blood," she commented, drifting past me.  
"Yeah, yeah," Sorry, but I hadn't slept- what were you expecting, Sondheim?  
I turned my head the other way, trying to think what I was going to say about my mother. how could I explain? Would it help if I lied? Perhaps there was something I could say, anything I could say. I just didn't know.

"You ready?" The voice pulled me from my distressed thoughts all too quickly. Nodding, I opened the bathroom door. I'd have to just make something up.  
"Are you sure you're OK with this?" I checked. If I made it sound like she was in charge, she'd crumble- it always worked with johnny."Oh yeah, not a problem," she breezed. Shit.  
"Oh. Well... Come on then," I managed, stepping outside into the cold air. "Time to show you around the more interesting part of town,"


	5. Chapter 5

Having lugged the prep to my house like a stray dog to the kennels, I then had to start the next bit of our little bet. Pushing the doorbell of Harrington House, I heard "God Save the Queen" bleeping out as expensive shoes down the hallway, the figure blurred by the glass. Once the door opened, the rich kid's expression completely mirrored my own. You know the face people pull when their toothless, rambling great aunt Vi who reeks of mothballs want a hug? Yeah, it was that one.

"Oh damn, it's you," They're real charmers, the preps.  
"Pleasure's all mine, Derby. Did Pinky tell you of our arrangement?"  
"Yes, although I was hoping she'd get the silly idea out of her head before now," he groaned, glancing at me like something on his shoe he hadn't quite managed to step around. "Where is she?" There was little concern in his voice- with his fianc in what preppies affectionately named "the ghetto", I'd half expected them to go on a hunt, or at least pay someone else to do it.  
"She's at my house," I replied cooly, trying not to dwell on the words too much. My room was clean, and I'd left her some money for groceries, in case Mom forgot again, a note about where the aspirin was, and Norton's address in case she wasn't sure of anything so she could ask his dad. "Anyway, may I come in for a moment, please?"  
"I suppose so," Derby sighed, stepping to the side so I could sweep in. Instantly, I felt incredibly out of place among the oil paintings and grand piano that I doubted any of them could play. Some of my old friends were in the room, one of whom seemed incredibly happy to see me, not seeming to notice how mutual or not that feeling was.  
"Lola!" Tad stood up and walked over, beaming. "What brings you here?" I tried to think of something else- the downside of my hobby is that sometimes, especially when boys want some gorgeous girl to boost their egos, they cling like shellfish to rocks.  
"I had a little bet with Pinky," I replied simply. "Long story short, I'll be around for a bit,"  
"Smashing," The fact that Pinky was now alone and probably scarred for life at the sight of Mom's favourite zebra print dress had passed him completely while there was a pretty girl in the room. Typical boy- only out for one thing.

I wasn't received so warmly by the others. Four pairs of frosted eyes chilled me to the bone. Even Gord seemed icy- that said, I heard from Christy his pelvis actually cracked when Johnny got his hands on him, so I guess he had an excuse. Swallowing, I told myself I'd be ok- they weren't that scary. Just men, and not particularly magnificent ones at that. Besides, I was Lola. Queen greaser. Hottest girl at school. I could have reduced them to snivelling, lustful wrecks in a snap.  
"So... where did you get those shoes?" I managed. Shoes. I, Helen of Troy, couldn't think of anything better to talk of than shoes. Luckily, it worked.  
"Oh, these? Aquaberry, of course. Genuine puppy leather, only the best. They have a great summer season..."

After three hours of talking about Aquaberry, I could take it no more. No wonder Pinky had been so eager to swap- her life may have been luxurious, but it was boring. So. So. Boring!  
"So," I asked, trying to stop my head exploding. "Where does Pinky live?" I could have guessed where it would be- Bullworth Vale, where all the rich kids were.  
"I'll take you," Tad offered. "Pinky normally goes to her father and Flossy's house,"  
"Flossy?" Who call their child Flossy? That's just cruel.  
"Her stepmother, Felicity, you'll get on splendidly," From the corner of my eye, I could see Derby pulling an odd expression... or maybe that was just how his face was. "Anyway, has anyone offered to take you to there?" A sudden idea struck me. Knowing that Tad wanted the ego boost I tended to provide, I decided to make the best of a bad situation.  
"Why no, Tad, darling, they haven't," I drawled, my eyelids fluttering like a butterfly's wings. "It's a shame, really. I'd hate to be out in the middle of the night, especially all alone," Beautiful, isn't it, how a few words can reduce a moron to mush? Within a second, Tad's face melted into that soppy look Johnny has sometimes.  
"I'll take you there if you like, my dear," Jackpot. Ten minutes and I'd have a new jacket. Flashing him the nicest smile I could muster.  
"I'd be d-"  
"That won't be necessary," Derby butted in. For high society, he didn't have great manners. "I'll take her,"

A moment later we were out the door. Once we were about halfway there, Derby decided to open his big mouth.  
"Listen, could you not associate with Tad while you're involved in this little bet?" I didn't know if "associate" was a weird, preppy euphemism, but it sounded like one with the tone he used.  
"Beg pardon?" I checked, an eyebrow raised. He pulled a mildly shocked expression- guess he didn't expect backchat.  
"Please don't associate too much with Tad during your time with us,"  
"Excuse me, but I don't see how that's your business,"  
"It will be my business if your boyfriend comes after one of my men again," He said this like Johnny's tendency to overreact was my fault.  
"Are you impying something?"  
"I'm just asking you to have consideration and not talk to Tad given your history-"  
"Oh, so what? You're gonna segregate me?" My tone didn't faze him- maybe he was used to Pinky's tantrums.  
"Let me finish. I know we don't get along-"  
"No shit,"  
"Do you mind?" For some reason, I shut up for a moment."Thank you,"  
"So you do have manners,"  
"Is this what the entire fortnight is going to be?" he demanded, looking mildly annoyed that I wasn't playing the "Yes" woman. "Us fighting?" I didn't reply. Letting out a heavy sigh, he gestured to a huge building that could easily have housed all of the girls at Bullworth Academy with rooms to spare. "This is it," The place was almost a palace; graceful statues posed in the evening light, the flowers swooned in the evening breeze, and hazy clouds drifted through the sky. "Mr. Gauthier is working abroad, so it'll be you, Flossy and the maids. If you don't know any etiquette and think you might embarrass yourself then phone Harrington House. These are my future in-laws, and causing them trouble won't help either of us,"  
"Like I would," I huffed. Not bothering to reply, he jabbed the doorbell and stood silently until a blonde girl who couldn't have been older than mid-twenties opened the door.  
"Oh, hi, Derby!" she squeaked- yes, squeaked.  
"Hello, Miss. This is Lola, she's... a friend of Pinky's. Could you accomondate her for a few days while they finish their bet?" She cocked her head slightly.  
"Bet?"  
"Lola will explain," The words in my throat withered away as I stared at this girl. This was Pinky's stepmother? Besides the bleached hair(her roots were showing) the unwrinkled face and the odd, almost babyish expression, she could have passed for her sister. Judging from the one time I'd seen the fat, balding Mr Gauthier, he must have been very rich. That, or he was a _very_ smooth talker.

For a moment, none of us said a word. What was probably a few minutes later, Derby covered his mouth and forced a cough.  
"Well, I'd best be going. Goodbye, ladies," Feeling slightly bewildered by this, I realised how dumb this bet was. As he walked back down the path, I briefly considered shouting him back, telling him to let Pinky know I quit, anything to not be stuck with this weird woman in an alien house. However, I didn't- I just watched him fade into a little stick man in the distance before turning to "Flossy". She looked at me. I looked at her. What was I meant to say to this girl?  
"Come in?" she offered after a stretched second of silence. I nodded, wandering into the unknown territory towards the classical music flooding the house, glancing at oil paintings of eagles so well drawn I thought they might fly off the canvas and peck at me and trying not to get mud on the royal blue carpet.

This was it. I had officially crossed the threshhold into Hell.


	6. Chapter 6

Those of you who've read Ice Queens may be familiar with the rant in this story. If you aren't, feel free to go have a look.

Chapter 6

How could a house that size be so. Fricking. Dull.

I am not joking, there was not one thing worth doing in that place. Snooze on the queen-size matress? I tried and failed. Read the fancy-prancy teen magazines stuffed under the bed like the bills from the strip clubs which Johnny promised me he didn't go to? Chat to Loopy Lindsey? "Aquaberry" didn't even sound like a word anymore. There was just... nothing... and everything. Too many options and not one of them worthwhile. Like having a full shelf of booze that tastes too vile to drink.

Let the record show that I tried not to invade Pinky's privacy... at first. In fact, I had it all worked out. Step one: Use her straighteners. Step two: Phone Tad. Step three: Meet at the fair. Step four: Persuade Tad to buy things for me, preferably without smearing my lipstick. After all, hadn't Pinky said we had to switch everything?

Of course, it turned out that someone had other ideas. Once it was time to execute step three, the clouds started to bellow outside, firing down rain. Perfect. Realising that drowned gutter rat was not a good look on me, I lounged at the bottom of the staircase, staring at the frosted glass until the door opened.

The man who wobbled in oozed wealth; Aquaberry suit, platinum watch, suspicously smooth forehead and bloated cheeks. Completely unfazed by the strange girl in his house and his daughter's skirt, he strode along, his stomach jiggling.  
"Pinky, I'm a little busy righ-" You know when a person's good day just falls through the floor? That was Mr. Gauthier's expression when he caught sight of me. "Y... who are you?"  
"Lola Lombardi. Pinky's friend," God, that was such a weird term: "Pinky's friend". I could barely get my mouth to shape around it.  
"Oh... why are you in here?" Lovely manners, don't ya think?  
"Long story. We bet we could be each other for two weeks. She's at mine. I'm here. It's actually quite a short story,"

I watched the information scan into his expression, transmitting into a message typed plainly on his flabby face: "You shouldn't be here. You should be an alley with your tongue down some boy's throat. You should be out manipulating some unsuspecting boy who thinks with his whatnot to buy you stuff." I couldn't agree more, Mr. Gauthier, I considered saying, but a bet is a bet. Blinking, his face clear slightly. Was that sweat on his forehead? Before I could ask, he waddled through the door to the living room, rushing past as fast as his rotund little legs could carry him.

The drizzle outside made it clear that any plans to obtain free stuff would have to be postponed, so I moved back upstairs and flopped down on Pinky's waterbed, not listening to Mr. Gauthier gush to Lindsey downstairs(no indoor voice, it would seem). Letting my mind wandered as the thunder banged on, I pulled open a drawer absent-mindedly. Peering in, I raised an eyebrow. Well, what did we have here? A book. A pink book. A pink book with a tiny padlock and the name "Pinky" in metallic, blossom blue handwriting. A diary, to be precise. Well, perhaps there was one thing to do...

The first few months were full of mindless babble, with half of the sentences reading "Christy says" or "Mandy told me". For some reason, each person's name had a different style to it; Mandy was usually written in a slim, light blue font so squashed that it was barely readable; Christy's name was pink, glittering like a little billboard screaming "Bullshit ahead!"; Angie was a soft lilac with smileys dotting the i; and mine came up now and again in harlot-scarlet script. So were certain other words; slut, slag, slapper. Venemous little bitch.

By July, I began to wonder if the whole thing was just one big, babyish, bitchy babble. Which was to expected. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I turned over the page:

"Derby,

Have I got your attention now, you arrogant, manipulative jerk?"

I nearly dropped the thing. Woah! Not so chirpy, it seemed. My eyes practically stapled to the page, I read on, skimming through the :

"This whole thing seems very good on your side; you don't have to bother courting, you have a wife ready-made, and if anything isn't to your liking, Daddy dearest can find you another cousin."

"You" was always written in black, hateful capitals, underlined hard enough to almost tear through the page. The more I read, the worse I felt.

"...just in case you have shown this to your father... I hate both of you. You have stolen my freedom... Derby can perhaps be forgiven, since he's almost as trapped as I am, but why make such a filthy arrangement for a boy you supposedly love so much?

Pinky Gauthier Unfortunately-to-become-Harrington"

...Shit. So things were rough all over.

Without another thought, I snapped the book shut and chucked the stupid thing back in the drawer- for some reason, I felt kind of bad reading it after that.

God knows why. Her squeaky voice still annoyed me. I still thought the princess thing was weird. And she wasn't going to get away with calling me a tramp if she did it again. And I had every belief that she was probably sat on my bed, reading my diary and loving it.

But damn it, I couldn't hate her anymore.

The rain nagged on outside. The trees creaked. The Gauthiers were talking- their voices loud, annoyed- downstairs. Damn it, what happened to peace and quiet? Shaking my head, I strode over to the windowsill and sat down, wondering if Pinky felt as bad about invading my privacy. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"I kissed Peanut,"

There are things in life that you don't expect. Things that seem so bizarre that you can't help laughing. Moments that make you wonder if you've gone completely mad and if your boyfriend is actually a psychiatrist in Happy Volts or a figment of your imagination. Moments that you don't expect from life and that rob you of all words with the exception of...

"You did what?" I checked, trying and failing to hold the giggles back. Red as lipstick, the little princess tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as though saying "Are you deaf?" before repeating herself.  
"I kissed Peanut!" This was accompanied by a sigh as she dropped onto my bed- technically her bed, but I digress. "God, weren't you listening?"  
"I was listening, Princess, I just don't believe it," I replied. "Why?" It was a pretty trippy mental image: Pinky Gauthier cosying up to a greaser. Pinky kissing a greaser. Princess Baby Sugarplum Fairy kissing a leather jacket, vitalis styled guy. And Peanut! Funny, I'd always thought he was gay. "Why did you do it?" Maybe she'd wanted a little fun- a "bit of rough", as Gord had called me(always the charmer, that man). Something to remember when she was married to a close relative and raising ugly, web-toed children. After all, I couldn't imagine Derby being any fun with that stick up his arse. But why dwell on it afterwards? Rich kids didn't work that way- they had their fun and ran. They didn't think about people like us afterwards, unless of course...

Yeah, right! Just in case, I leaned forward and pressed a hand to her forehead. Normal temperature. Maybe she'd partied a little too hard, if you catch my drift.  
"What did you take?"  
At this, she pulled a face at me- raised brows, unimpressed mouth.  
"I'm serious, Lola," she said, reaching up to grab my wrist and push my hand away. "I like him... And he doesn't even know it's me!" Suddenly, she flew up from the bed as though someone had lit a fire under her ass. "Omigod! What if he finds out I'm some rich princess!" What the hell? Her highness herself just used "princess" as an insult. And she was fretting over what Larry would think of her. Dear God, this was serious!  
"I... I don't know," Why I was trying to help her, that is. Who cared if she had got herself in too deep? She'd never have helped me in the same situation. Laughed at me, maybe. We weren't exactly friends. In fact, I wasn't totally sure why it was me she came to. Maybe she figured I'd be discreet. Christy was useless in that respect. That tramp Mandy wasn't much better. And as for Lindsey downstairs...

Trying to lighen the situation, I made a pretty crappy joke that she could fake her own death. Guess how impressed she was by that. "Kidding," I reassured her, a thought occurring. "All jokes aside, how come he didn't know it was you?" I asked, resting my elbows on my knees. Surely Larry wasn't that stupid, right?

At this, Pinky shoved a hand through her hair and pressed her red lips together(red from what I suspected to be my lipstick, by the way).  
"Well, Johnny-"  
"Fucking Johnny," I muttered, slapping my palm full-force onto my forehead. For some reason, I remembered my forfeit for losing the bet: "Keep away from my friends", Pinky had said. "There's a supreme irony in this, ya know," I chuckled, though it wasn't that funny. Apparently not knowing, she rolled her eyes.  
"Please enlighten me... You know what? Don't." She took a deep breath and wrung her hands, looking at the carpet. "You have to help me."  
"Do I?"  
"Yes! Believe it or not..." She took a deep breath for dramatic effect, as though about to recite a sollilquy before mumbling "You're my best friend."

Liar. I was not going to help her. I was not going to fall prey to the pathetic, pitiful confession. I was not going to be manipulated by puppy dog eyes or being called a friend or...  
"Fine," Suddenly, she smiled- properly, for once.  
"So have you got a plan?"  
"Not yet. We'll think of something," Don't ask what possessed me, but I hugged her. Was that my perfume she was wearing? Instead of reacting like a normal person, she sat frigid in my arms- probably not used to open displays of friendship- so I let go of her. I sat back. I fidgeted. Awk-ward.

Thankfully, she made her excuses and left almost immediately, leaving me to my boredom and an early night. Laying back on the mattress, I reviewed the day. Not exactly boring, was it? Read a diary. Got called a friend. Got involved in Pinky's love life and hugged a preppie. Shutting my eyes, I watched the night roll onwards outside, the stars flirting in the dark. The day was over. The rich parents were in bed. No more drama for the rest of the day.

And then I heard a window smash downstairs. 


End file.
